


Roses Underfoot

by Missy



Category: Sleeping Beauty (1959)
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/F, Fantasy, Monologue, Obsession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 09:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2846885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Missy/pseuds/Missy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maleficent has plans.  And sometimes the best plans are the ones you tell yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Roses Underfoot

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morbane](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morbane/gifts).



My dear child. How many hours have I waited? But at last, I’ve finally found you.

Have you any idea how long I searched? The paths of bramble I walked until I finally saw your golden head peering out from the thicket of thorns as you danced, barefooted, with the animals? That’s a trick you learned from me, somehow, this easy communion with the creatures around you. I thought we’d never be reunited. And yet here you are at long last. It’s quite a reunion, no?

Oh dear. You’re awfully quiet, lying so still. I do hope you’re sleeping soundly.

And I hope you stay that way. I’ve gone to a great deal of trouble to pin you down, you see – as I told you, searched the brambles, cut through this land like a plaugue, like a brand. It’s time for you to stay where you’re put. To grow like a rose planted in the dirt, shining like an angel between the sheets. A gem in the bush. Waiting for a plucking that will never come.

It will be the most restful sleep of your life, darling. There’s a beautiful bed of satin made just for you. Warm pillows will lie under your head, and the breeze shall always kiss your cheek. Your parents will see my revenge and collect you; they’ll see you dead, but know that those fairies and their blunting of my powers. I will know it, too; have known it for a decade. Too bad it will be the only thing to kiss you. Too bad it shall be so fatal for you.

But you shall make a pretty picture – that much I’ll promise you. They’ll come for you, find they cannot cure you – but in the mean time hail you like an angel. You will lie among the flowers named for you. The sweet scent they give will fill your lungs. Perhaps you’ll dream of snipping them off at the foot, of tucking them into your basket. 

How terribly unfortunate.

You’ve grown beautifully, my darling. Nearly as fair as any flower, but you don’t have thorns at all; you’re all sunlight, all the time, and you’ve never said a cross word to anyone. Those fools tried to arm you against me with their words and their warnings, but still you lie as open and vulnerable as a blossom. The vines will grow over your heart, a mantle, an armor, protecting the softness underneath. Your heart will stay virgin in an untouched breast for eternity?

And I? I shall own the world. It will be my kingdom, and you shall sleep in the heart of it, like a ruby, your heartbeat drawing them on and on, maddening them. You will remain unknowable there while they circle you like a vulture. Your eyes will be shut and unseeing but you’ll remain holy and perfect, somehow saintlike, your hands folded like a martyr, your eyes rolled toward the heavens, the cloud of your breathing a silk wrap protecting you from prying eyes. I will loom like the devil over all, my cape their shroud, and they will tremble at the look in my eyes, quake at my every single step. And they will know of you, and they will try to save you from me.

But in your dreams will I be Saint George or the Dragon? Will I save you from boredom? From existence as a brood sow to some man’s whims? From life chained to a castle, to a man, that will never be fully and truly yours? From a life lived as a symbol instead of a leader?

What will you dream of when you’re asleep? Will you see some fantastic world you cannot reach? Will you dream of your past – of those wretched fairies? Will you think of the future – and who will be kissing your lips? Some boy, or some girl?

Or will you dream of nobody – of nothing – beyond yourself? Will you be an island or will you be as sharp as the point on a spinning wheel?

Shall you stay with me in the underworld, darling? Breathe the damp of the dead and float beneath the surface with me? I’ve got dragons on my side, mouths aflame, flying torches to light our way. Together we might rule o’re them all, while they cower or sleep on in total ignorance. It shall not matter. They will be ours to rule and command, and the dragons will see us as kin. I will drape you in the darkness, make you one with it, and tutor you in the power of it until you understand.

To start, when you are afraid, we will begin just by riding on the back of a dragon of our choosing. Our legs will clutch its flanks, and together we will ride on its back, the scales part of our mantle. Our hands will circle its neck and we will know the power in the cold, indifferent manner of the monster. But we will do it together, child, you and I.

And as you grow in wisdom, I shall teach you to shift your body, to grow into the shape and form of one. Then we will spread our wings and fly toward the sun, making the fools beneath our belly cower in fear of what we might do. We will learn to shift at will – then into other, deadlier things. Cobras, fire ants, lions. And when the battle is won, and our dominance assured, then we shall come home to rest.

This is part of you I will keep. This part of you my teeth will close over like a communion wafer I will bite through to find infinite bliss. And you will rule at my side, a hand on the staff, eyes full and soul open, as warm as desirable as a rose that gives its sweet fragrance for none but me. No others shall compare to me, and rivals shall not be tolerated, as if there’s an equal to your beauty. You may wonder when you waken:

How many years have I waited? 

How many will you? 

And what will be left of the pitiful mortals you knew then?


End file.
